The Soul of a Traveler
by AmethystUnarmed
Summary: (Technically SuperWhoLock, but I can only have two categories *Shrug*) A curious case leaves the Doctor baffled, so he turns to Sherlock Holmes and the Winchester Brothers for advice. However, when the deeper meaning of the occurrences are discovered, the loose allies will have to join in order to set things right. Rated T for language and some gore.
1. Chapter 1

**Beginning of a SuperWhoLock fic I've been working on. Set just before Hound of Baskerville, just after Sam regains his soul in Supernatural Season 6, and right in the middle of the Doctor Who season 6. Any feedback is lovely.**

* * *

"Doctor, what is it?" Amy asked, watching the bow tie wearing man spin around the room. She crossed her arms. "People don't just go berserk and try to stab their families, then run through windows." She was referring to the four people who'd recently done as such, house to house down her street. As much as she hated to admit it, it rattled her. She didn't like cases so close to home.

"Exactly Amy, they don't. Then why? Why, why, why! Think Doctor!" He tapped his sonic screwdriver to his head. He couldn't make sense of it. _Cybermen? _In both universes, they'd possessed people. _No, too sloppy. Daleks? _He knew they could infect a human corpse. _No, these people hadn't died. Prisoner Zero? _The memory of the replicated humans was replayed in his memory. _Oh, now you're just being ridiculous._

"I didn't say anything..." The Doctor hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. Amy was raising an eyebrow at him, and frowning.

"Stop that."

"What?"

"That look. It makes me feel like a madman. A normal one, not one with a box. What am I _missing_?" He whirled around again. A normal living room, despite the fact it had been the site of a near homicide. A green couch tipped over, family pictures with cracked frames, scratches on the hardwood from scrambling feet, shattered glass, and a knife blade. Why would this be the room where a man decides he's had enough and attacks his family? The police had come and gone, the detective inspector and his coworkers as baffled as the Doctor. Something else was here, but he couldn't see it. Amy was distracting him, if that made any difference. Every time he looked up he saw the scanner in the TARDIS, flashing between negative and positive

"Is it aliens?" His companion echoed his thoughts.

"No, or at least not any I'm familiar with. Something about this rings a bell though... What is it!" Then, with absolute certainty, he turned and left the room. "Come along Pond."

"Wait, you're going to just leave? But something's wrong. You never leave when something's wrong. 'Poke it with a stick,' remember!" She yelled after him. His head popped back in the room.

"Are you coming or not?"

"Of course I'm coming!" She huffed and brushed past him.

* * *

_Vworrrp. Vworrrp_

"Oh, not again," Rory sighed as the TARDIS materialized around him.

"Good to see you too," the Doctor replied distractedly as he slammed the controls on the TARDIS.

"You do realize I have a job?" He told Amy as she came down the stairs toward him.

"Yes, but this is better."

"I was in the middle of shift! You can't just drop in and pick me up every time _he_ wants to go on an adventure."

"Fine." Amy amended, "We'll take you back and I can go on an extremely dangerous adventure with the Doctor his two friends. We should be fine with two extra guys to-"

"_Guys_?" Rory exclaimed. He looked from her to the Doctor, remembering what had happened when Amy had traveled alone the first time. And that was _jus_t the Doctor.

"I'm going, aren't I?"

* * *

Sherlock's phone buzzed in his pocket. He immediately reached in his coat for it.

John Watson Calling. Raising an eyebrow, he answered. "John, I-"

"THERE IS A BLOODY POLICE BOX IN THE FLAT!" Sherlock sighed and hung up.

It looks like Bluebell will have to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, this was originally going to be much longer, so I ended up splitting the chapter into two parts. I'll probably release what is now "Chapter 3" later tonight. Anyways, I was feeling inspired, so here's an update. To everyone who followed and favorited and reviewed, I love you! I'm glad you all want more! And, thanks Kaibagirl007 (can I call you KG?). I'm a bit OCD about details and characterization. ****And, please, if you have any questions or comments, I will gladly accept and answer! So, without further ado, I'll actually start the chapter :)**

**Oh wait. Disclaimer. Do I need one of those?**

**Eh.**

* * *

"Sherlock, even for you, this is farfetched. You mean to tell me this man is a time traveling alien?" John sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He studied the Doctor with wide eyes. _My leg is starting to ache again... _The consulting detective looked at John in surprise.

"Isn't it obvious? Even for you, I thought it was a fairly simple deduction."

"HOW IS IT SO BLOODY SIMPLE?" The Doctor glanced between Amy and their hosts awkwardly.

"Sorry," he whispered to her, then cleared his throat and stood. "Um, hello, I'm the Doctor. John, I'm going to assume we haven't met yet?"

"No, we haven't- _yet?_" The Doctor shrugged.

"Well, this would be why you recognized me last time-"

"Last time?" Sherlock interrupted, "Last time you asked for my help you had a leather jacket, big ears, and a blonde companion."

"Blonde?" Amy smirked. _Oh, this is too good._ "Doctor, you never-" The Doctor clapped his hands together.

"Okay, things are getting out of order. I love it when that happens! That's always interesting. So." The Doctor stopped and looked between them, obviously expecting something to happen. The three humans just stared at him. Amy took this occasion to ask a question that had been nagging her. Something Sherlock had mentioned...

"Uh, Doctor," Amy asked over his shoulder, "How did he know you want his help?"

"Quite apparent, really," Sherlock answered, "His eyes keep shifting around, showing anxiety, though he keeps smiling to mask it. Taking his sonic screwdriver in and out of his pocket, another nervous habit. Bringing you for one, to help convince John to go on another wild adventure though we haven't yet been on the first..." He paused and looked over her. "Though you're married, so he's gambling. All signs of a man who desperately needs help. Shall I go on?" Amy blinked a few times.

"Doctor, how'd he do that? Is he an alien? Is this another one of those mind reading things or-"

"No, just a very clever human," he informed her, "Oh, I'm being rude. Amy, you're supposed to tell me when I'm being rude! That's why I bring along companions. Amy, that's Sherlock Holmes, world's only consulting detective, and his companion, Dr. John Watson. Sherlock, Dr. Warson, this is Amy Pond, toughest companion I can find and probably the best person in this room- Sorry John. Now, let's get going, shall we?" Rory poked his head out of TARDIS and looked around.

"Can I come out now or-" He looked over and his eyes widened when he spotted John. "Dr. Watson?"

"Rory? What are you doing with the Doctor and-"

"John, he's Amy's husband," Sherlock informed him, "Isn't it-"

"No, Sherlock. It's not obvious. Nothing about this _bloody_ encounter has be obvious." He sank into his chair and rubbed his temples.

"I used to work with Dr. Watson, when I first became a nurse," Rory recalled, stepping out into the flat. "Then he went off to serve in Iraq. I thought you were-"

"I got shot," John muttered, effectively shutting Rory up. He stood, grabbed his laptop, and walked into the TARDIS. "What on... it's bigger on the inside!"

* * *

Sherlock slowly walked around the room. He paused, cocked his head like a dog on a scent, and whirled back around, running over to the other end room. The other four members of the growing company stiffly stood in the corner, not sure how to react. John was used to this by now, and the Doctor knew what Sherlock could be like, but Amy and Rory could barely stifle their laughter. Sherlock remained so serious, but was nearly hopping. After three minutes, he stopped and looked up at them.

"Something is very wrong here." He walked over to the windowsill and pushed away the curtain. "And it has something to do with this." The Doctor walked over, and recognized what Sherlock was pointing to.

"No. No, no, no, no!" He walked away and slumped onto the edge of the tipped couch

"Doctor, what is it?" Amy ran over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. John walked over and Rory was right behind him.

"Sherlock, is that...?"

"Sulfur?" Rory finished.


	3. Chapter 3

**And another!**

* * *

"Sam!" Dean called, and tossed him a rifle. The younger brother whirled around and blasted the ghost with rock salt.

"I thought this was a Wendigo!" He yelled, scanning the forest for more spirits. "You said this was a Wendigo."

"It was! Mutilated bodies, middle of the woods, only comes out every twenty-five years or so. It was a clear cut Wendigo! Get down!" Sam ducked just in time for Dean to shoot the mauled Indian Chief that was reaching for his throat. The ghost vanished with a guttural snarl.

"Does this look like a Wendigo?" Sam glanced up before checking his bag. It wouldn't be long before it came back. Rock salt only went so far. "All I have packed for ghosts are these guns and a couple more rounds. We need to get out of here before Chief Psycho chops us into pieces like he did the others."

"Dammit, Sam, you think I don't know that! Come on." He began making a mad dash toward the Impala. Sam barreled after him, frantically searching for the ghost. He didn't like how it hadn't made another move. He didn't have to wait long. The chieftain appeared in front of him and reaching inside his chest. Sam felt his insides being twisted and groaned.

"Sammy!" He heard Dean shout, and then a noise he'd never heard.

_Vworrrp. Vworrrp_

"What the hell..." Dean muttered and lifted his gun at the appearing object. The specter holding Sam looked up, and it was the first time the Winchesters had seen a ghost run scared. Dean ran over and helped Sam to his feet. "You've got to be friggin' kidding me! You ever heard of a ghost police box?"

"No... but I think we should get in the car." The blue box began to solidify.

"Get in the car, get in the car!" The Winchesters sprinted away as fast as could. Dean looked back and tried to blast the ghost of Phone Booth's Past, but the salt had no effect other than hitting a solid object. The Box did appear to be solid now, and Dean could hear a yell from inside. A man ran out, unlike any Dean had ever seen. Sure, he saw crazy freak and monsters all the time, but this guy? He was running around the blue box, armed only with a green flashlight and patches on his elbows. _The ghost was afraid of _him_? _Dean wondered, He stopped running, intent on watching the man who gasped at the indents and chipped paint left from the shotgun blast.

"Sexy!" He cried, gently running his fingers over the marks as though touching a beautiful woman. Dean raised an eyebrow. _Great, a pervert in love with a magic box. _As he turned to leave, a shot rang out.

"Hit the deck!" Dean ordered Sam, before turning back to the police box. A man in a purple button down was aiming a pistol at them.

"Stop or I'll shoot. And I don't miss." The dark-haired man smirked in disdain. Dean growled, tempted to blast the pompous ass full of rock salt.

"Oi! I said no guns!" The other man whirled around, and Dean could finally get a good look at his face. He looked young, practically childlike, with hair almost as long as Sam's. Almost. _Heh, with purple shirt, those three could make a L'oreal commercial. _Dean snickered at the thought. The man in purple heard him, and trained his gun on Dean. _He's aiming too low to make a fatal shot. They want us alive. _Dean aimed his gun right back.

"I've got all day, Cheekbones." He could hear Sam facepalm and mutter in annoyance.

"Dean, let's _go_." Purple Shirt ignored the jibe. The indication of him even hearing Dean was the slow movement of his thumb cocking the revolver.

"Sherlock!" Bow Tie shouted, though Dean would hardly call him threatening. "Give me that! _Now_." _Sherlock. _Dean snickered at the name. _His mom must hate him or something. _Sherlock raised an eyebrow, eyes still locked on Dean, but to the amazement of everyone, he handed the man the gun. Bow Tie took it and, after emptying all the bullets, looked up Dean with a big, goofy grin. Dean couldn't decide if it pissed him off or disarmed him. It was nearly infectious.

"Well. Nice to finally meet you. I'm the Doctor, and Sherlock was the one about to shoot you. But don't worry, he's under control. Mostly. Sometimes. Not really. Now, fancy a job?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, I'm glad I decided to update early. I got a concussion a few days after posting, and haven't been able to look at a screen without my head exploding. Then I was dragged on a college trip during spring break... 7 hours in the car without being able to look at anything electronic or read. *shudder* However, I am back! With a chapter! Unfortunately, I have tech week coming up for a show and have to recover from missing a week of school so God knows when I will get another chapter up.**

"You want us to fly around in some hoodoo-rigged, magic, disappearing box?" Dean accused.

"TARDIS! And don't call her names, she's sensitive," the Doctor admonished, standing in front of the door protectively. Sherlock studied the hunters, smirking in a way that made Dean want to punch him. Sam pulled his brother to the side.

"Dean, I don't think this is hoodoo. Or any witchcraft for that matter."

"Then someone drugged us. Because this isn't happening. A Djinn? Oh, maybe that-"

"Oh, uh, we can still hear you," the Doctor informed them helpfully. Dean sighed and turned to face him.

"Could you give us a second, uh, Mr. Uh..."

"Doctor. And that's Sherlock Holmes. Now, not that I'm trying to rush you, but we could really-"

"How long has it been since your accident?" Sherlock interjected, intently studying Sam. The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, not looking pleased. He knew what was coming.

"A-accident?" Sam choked, showing he knew exactly what he meant.

"You fold your shoulders in like you're trying to hide then you catch yourself, straighten, and look to make sure Dean hasn't noticed. Twice in the conversation, you seemed to see something that wasn't there, then forget what it was. Signs of amnesia or some sort of mental block. No obvious injuries, so a car crash is unlikely. I'm assuming it occurred while you're on the 'job.' Considering your line of work, not entirely surprising. So, when was it?" Sam looked ready to answer, but Dean cut him off.

"Sam, you don't have to listen to any of this crap," He snapped, glaring at Sherlock. Turning to Sam, he then whispered, almost desparate, "Leave the wall alone. Don't scratch it."

"If you're done controlling your little brother, could we get on with the case?" Sherlock suggested in a bored tone. The Doctor flinched at the insult, and Dean clenched his hands into fists. Sam jumped into the conversation before someone started throwing punches.

"How did you know we were brothers? Or that I was younger? Most people think-"

"You're older? Or a couple?" Sherlock finished, his voice lightening as it always did when he knew he was right. "I can see how people could be mistaken, if they completely ignored the obvious. And despite Dean's insecurities, your strides to keep the peace, and the _alarming _height difference, he's older. Anything I miss?" Dean stormed forward, raising a fist at him.

"Look here, Curly Top, I may not be able to understand how you do your fancy deductions, but you know what? I don't give a rat's ass what you say. You don't know what we've been through, what I've done for this God-forsaken rock. And God _has_ forsaken us, so right now the only thing standing between life and the end of the world is us. So you can piss off." Sherlock smirked.

"I didn't pick up on the hero complex, thank you for pointing that out." To everyone's surprise (even Sherlock's, though he'd never admit it), Dean laughed.

"That's great, Sherly. You're friggin' welcome." He unloaded the empty shotguns shells in his rifle and walked off. "Come on, Sammy. Sooner we get out of here the better."

"Wait!" The Doctor called, and ran after him, "Please. Sherlock's just being... Sherlock. He gets better, er... easier to deal with. The point is, I need your help. Near my friend's house, people, for no reason, have started attacking one another, then run off. We found sulfur in the house of the last victim."

"Demons?" Sam asked from behind them. The Doctor nodded.

"That's why I came to you. And isn't that what you do? 'Saving people, hunting things?'" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"How do you know that...?"

"The Winchester Gospel. I have a copy of it in my TARDIS. First edition, actually." He grinned as though this was a good thing and not totally creepy and stalkerish. Dean blinked a couple times, and looked to Sam. His brother only shrugged.

"Fine," he sighed, and began walking to the TARDIS, "But I- what the..? SAM!" Alarm flooded his tone. "There's a friggin' spaceship in here!"

* * *

Crowley swirled the Scotch in his glass, watching as the currents mingled.

"And you're sure the entire neighborhood is possessed?"

"Down to the last child," the demon replied, his arrogance a bitter taste on an otherwise sugar coated day.

"Good. The ruckus you lot caused should have caught their attention. You're dismissed." The demon, hiding behind the meat suit of a young taxi driver, lingered a minute longer. Crowley looked up from his drink. "I said you're dismissed."

"Sir, if I may be so bold-"

"I expect you're going to." The King of Hell dared his subject to continue.

"Why this girl?" _God, he's bloody clueless._ "There are a million other humans, why-"

"She is just the bait. We need her husband."

"But, why?" For a moment, Crowley faltered. Why did we need this man so much? He could easily strike a deal. In fact, he would- Crowley's eyes caught the corner of his office and he paused. When he realized he'd gone too long without answering the lackey, he nearly kicked himself. _Bugger. Blighter will start saying I've lost it._

"I told you, it's my business. I don't need a snot-nosed ex-warlock questioning my actions!" He moved to lean forward on his desk, but discover he was standing in front of it. The kid seemed to be farther away as well. "Peculiar..."

"What was that?" The demon smirked at him. Crowley raised an eyebrow at him. The kid may need to be knocked down a few pegs.

"Make sure any interferences are dealt with," he instructed, and waved him away. "You know where to go." Crowley had put him in charge of the entire operation. Hopefully a hunter would catch up to the arrogant bastard. The demon nodded, and left, leaving Crowley to his own thoughts. And they weren't very good company. He went to take a sip when he realized the fractured glass was lying at his feet, the century old drink soaking into the carpet. "Did I..." No. He knew he hadn't dropped it. There was no question in his mind it never left his hand. So how could it have ended up on floor? "Very peculiar..."

**And the plot appears~**

**Any guesses as to what's going on? I'll give you a cookie.**


	5. Chapter 5

**HI GUYS I'M BACK. I missed you (even if you didn't miss me.) I feel much better and am nearly headache free! But, even more exciting, I actually have a chapter of a decent length for you guys. I know, I can't believe it either! Thank you to all the new follows and favorites. You guys are great!**

The Winchesters stared in wonder. They'd seen a lot. A rabbit's foot that gave you luck (until you lost it), a coin that made an actual wishing well, a gold and ivory room with beer and hamburgers that materialized out of thin air. They had even seen heaven, though the memory was faint and the trip unforgettable for all the wrong reasons. But nothing, in all the worlds they visited, had the boys seen anything like this.

The TARDIS's orange glow radiated around them, casting an aura of warmth. It had oblong wall with ovals cast in the panels, a few feet away from the railings isolating the island-like center. The glass floor revealed a work space below, matching the complex mess of a machine in front of them. The copper dashboard was littered with glowing lights and alarm red handles and buttons onto top of buttons. It gave way to a column in the center that reached the ceiling. Two chairs were stationed in near the railings, both taken.

"I see Sherlock didn't scare you off," the shorter blonde man chuckled, stood and held out his hand, "John Watson. You're Sam and Dean, right?"

"Our reputation precedes us," Dean commented with a frown as he shook John's hand.

"Good, you're all getting acquainted!" The Doctor exclaimed as he walked up the ramp, "It rhymes! Sherlock and John, the Winchesters and Pon... ds. Okay, almost rhymes." He began fiddling with the controls, muttering about recalculating the time vortex.

"Wait, Pond?" Sam interjected, thinking of someone he had known a long time ago.

"Yep," the ginger answered, "Rory and Amy."

"Williams," Rory huffed, not noticing Sam go pale. His hands began shaking at the thought of a girl he hadn't seen since the days he traveled around with Dad.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean whispered, and Sam looked up like he didn't really see him.

"Uh, yeah, just did you say Amy Pond?" Dean got it. He looked at the girl with the same wide eyes.

"That's my name. What's it to ya, Mountain Man?" Sam began replying, but realized what she said.

"Did you just call me-"

"Mountain Man? Impressive stature, plaid shirt, shaggy hair-"

"This is going to be a long job," Dean grumbled, "Hey, Doctor... uh, Doctor..."

"Just the Doctor," Sherlock and the Doctor said at the same time.

"Okaaay..." he trailed off and gave Sam his _What the hell? _look. "Uh, Doc, let's get this show on the road." He missed Rory and John grip onto the railing, didn't see Amy dig her fingernails into the leather chair, or even notice Sherlock sit in the now empty chair, balancing his hands in a prayer position near his mouth.

"Next stop, Baker Street!" The Doctor proclaimed, and spun a dial. The TARDIS shook and the pendulum in the center moved up and down, pumping the noise throughout the room. Sam fell forward into Amy, but Dean, who had still been standing on the ramp, slipped back and landed against the door with a crash. He sucked in a breath.

"It's a goddamn airplane. YOU DIDN'T SAY IT WAS A GODDAMN AIRPLANE!"

* * *

"John, I'm bored." The consulting detective was sprawled over the couch, spinning his gun with his finger. John briefly considered taking it, but sat in his armchair instead. Sherlock would only find something more dangerous to play with.

"The Doctor hasn't even been gone five minutes."

"Booored..." Sherlock moaned, then sat up. "Demons, John. Demons! Finally some excitement and you make tea!" John only raised an eyebrow, letting Sherlock get it out of his system. "Something _better_ than a serial killer and you give in when a man with a bow tie says no. I suppose it'll be an easy case if the Doctor believes those Winchester idiots can solve it but still... Imagine the possibilities of a _demon_!" He flopped back against the sofa. "At least gravity still works," he spat, then popped back up, "Unless..."

"Sherlock, there's definitely still gravity."

"No, not that. Think about it. From what the Winchesters told us, do the demons seem stupid? No. No, no, no, no... They're clever. Oh, yes very clever. And if they wanted attention, how would they do it?"

"Stir up trouble, I suppose."

"Precisely. What harm did any of those demons do? Nothing. No one was killed. Sure, none of the men came back, but people go missing all the time. So what was the purpose? In that particular neighborhood? Only one interesting thing. Only one thing that is out of the ordinary." John's eyes widened as he caught up to Sherlock.

"Amy and Rory."

* * *

The TARDIS appeared in the middle of the Pond's living room. Dean and Sam walked out first, holding guns at the ready. Well, Sam did. Dean more of stumbled and looked a little green as he used all his self control to keep from kissing the ground. _I am never getting on that damn death trap again. _Once the room was secure, they signaled the Doctor. He followed behind, constantly scanning with his screwdriver.

He felt a little bad about sending Sherlock and John back to Baker Street. Once the Winchesters had explained to them all about demons, he had noticed how excited Sherlock had seemed. But death had a way of following the Time Lord, and he knew that the less people were involved, the better. He hadn't even let Amy and Rory leave the TARDIS. He wasn't sure why he had brought them along.

He really needed to stop lying to himself. He never fell for it. He knew exactly why. The Doctor hadn't gone to see the Ponds recently, and was worried about it. He missed them. And now this was so close to home... He was willing to let two men take over the job, with enough guns to start a war. The boys put him on edge. He disliked guns (especially when they were pointed at his companions) and the Winchesters had quite the affinity for them. Maybe he should tell them... An image of Amy and Rory smiling ran through his head and he set his jaw. He wouldn't lose them too. But he couldn't help his tenth generation surfacing when he warned, "Make sure you don't hit any of the neighbors with those."

"Doc, this isn't our first rodeo," Dean assured him, "Go into the kitchen and see if you can find any salt."

* * *

Sherlock paced back and forth, cell phone to his ear. The doctor _had_ given him his number, but this was about the fourth time Sherlock had called without receiving a response. "He's probably too busy stroking the TARDIS," he muttered. He was already in his scarf and coat, dressed to go the second the TARDIS arrived. "John, are you ready? We need to-" He froze, the sight of a gun twisting his stomach. Guns had never frightened him. In his line of work, one had to regard them with a respect, but nothing more. Even when Moriarty had threatened John at the pool, he had been scared of the result, but not the guns themselves. But Sherlock now knew fear of a firearm. Because this time, it was in the hand of Mrs. Hudson.

"Hello Sherlock. Sorry, but I have to cancel your plans." She grinned and her eyes flicked black.

* * *

A man walked into the Pond residence, whistling. "I know you're here," he sang, and heard the door creak behind him. He whirled around, blasting the figure behind him. Dean flew against the wall and hung there, his pistol flying from his hand. _There's one, _the demon smirked. He heard a shotgun cock behind him. Without hesitation, he grabbed the barrel of the gun and yanked it around, sending Sam flying. _And there's two. _He leaned over the dazed man and clamped his hands around his trachea. The human coughed and sputtered, and attempted to claw his hand away. The demon cackled. "Pathetic." He was going to say more when he was so rudely interrupted. _Three? _The Doctor had dumped the gallon of holy water on the demon. His eyes turned black and he hissed. Letting go of Sam's throat, he turned to the Time Lord. The Doctor scrambled backwards and bumped into the wall behind him. The demon moved to punch him, but ran into an invisible wall. The Doctor smiled, and straightened his bow tie. "Well, that's encouraging." He flipped over the corner of the carpet, revealing the devil's trap underneath.

"You dick," the demon spat.

"Harsh words from the demon who stole a body. Now." He walked over and hoisted Sam, who was still panting, off the floor. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh yes, I'll tell you because suspenders are so extremely frightening," The demon crossed his arms and chuckled.

"It's not him you have to worry about." Dean held up the combination of holy water and salt he'd concocted for days like this. "Listen here, I'm not in a mood to chat. Personally, I want to get back to America and my car, so I'll make it quick." He toss half of the jug at demon, who screamed and began smoking. "What's happening here? Crowley? Or are you one of Lucifer's few supporters?" The demon only laughed at him.

"You think you're worse than the treatment I'll get if I squeal? No, I'll take hell anyday."

"Who said we were sending you to hell?" Sam inquired, and threw a knife to Dean. The demon paled.

"That's not-"

"Oh, that's exactly what it is," Dean assured him, "You have three seconds. One..."

"Guys, lets think this through. You seem like sensible gentlemen, how about we come up with an alternate solution-"

"_Two..._"

"Come on. Doctor, I've heard about you. You show mercy." The Doctor glared at him.

"Next time, don't go near my companions."

"Three." Dean lunged forward with the knife. The demon ducked out of the way and cried, "Ibetyoudon'tknowaboutyourfriends!" Dean froze and backed out of the devil's trap.

"What about them?"

"An order went out to deal with any nuisances. I was told to go after you, but my partner, he was told to go to London. He was going to Baker Street or something."

"Sherlock and John. We need to go." The Doctor sprinted out of the living room back to the TARDIS. "I'll start the engine!" Sam and Dean glanced at each other, and Dean tucked the knife into the waistband of his pants. They turned to leave.

"Wait, I told you about your friends. You can't just leave me here!" Sam stepped inside the TARDIS but Dean looked back.

"I'm sure Crowley will get here soon enough." He followed Sam and the door slammed shut.

"NO! I TOLD YOU! YOU CAN'T JUST-"

His screams were drowned out by the noise of the TARDIS as it disappeared.

* * *

"John, you get in here too, or I'll put a bullet through your boyfriend's head." John sighed, and did as she said, holding his hands up above his head and muttering about not being gay.

"Positive?" The demon chuckled. "From what _I've _seen..." She winked. "I'd love to continue our chat but business is business. Only question is, who to shoot first?" The gun teased them, aim switching between Sherlock's and John's heads. The demon smirked as the gun settled on John. "You shouldn't even be here. Sherlock would still be a hopeless druggie and then you had to go and get shot. This all happened because of you, you know. And now, it will end with you." But next, too many things happened at once.

First, the TARDIS noise exploded in the flat. Second, Sherlock reached out and snatched the gun from the demon. Third, the gun went off, bullet flying into the wall next to the spray painted smile and John hit the deck. It was a good thing the neighbors had gotten used to Sherlock's antics ages ago, or someone would have called the police.

"Get out of her!" Sherlock ordered. He pointed the gun at the demon, who'd fallen to the floor. She cackled.

"All you'll do is kill the housekeeper. Go ahead and try." The TARDIS solidified, and the Winchesters walked out. "Well, it seems that's my cue. Talk with you boys real soon."

"Don't let him-" Dean began, running toward the fallen woman, but the demon had already smoked out.


	6. Chapter 6

**So... I'm not dead.**

**Sorry for the long time in between updates. Between AP tests, tech week, and TWO concussions, I've been swamped.**

**BUT here is the next update!**

* * *

Amy was angrily unloading the dishwasher. "Can you believe him?" She slammed a plate in a cupboard.

"Don't break anymore dishes," Rory told her absentmindedly. If this kept up, he was going to have to bill the Doctor for the damages. They couldn't afford _another _dining set. He was busy cleaning up in the other room, freeing it from salt piles, spray paint splatters, puddles of holy water. Though it kept him from Amy's whirlwind of china and cutlery, it didn't mean it was easy. They got footprints on the ceiling for God's sake. _The ceiling._ How they managed to do as such was a mystery to him. Rory sighed. _You'd think they could at least clean up after themselves._

The Doctor and Winchesters had come storming through the TARDIS without any warning. Sam's neck had been blossoming with bruises and he was soaked to the bone, but other than that, the three seemed no worse for wear. Before he could ask any questions, the Doctor was shoving the two of them out of his TARDIS, babbling about having to be off, using the voice he had that was meant to hide panic, but every time Rory heard that voice he either almost died or actually did die. The eccentric man mentioned being back in time for tea before slamming the doors in their faces. Rory hadn't been too surprised by this. Actually, after popping out of a cake at his bachelor party, the Doctor rarely managed to surprise him. Amy, however, wasn't happy. He winced as she pounded mugs onto the top shelf. _Yep. Definitely not happy._

"He just pops in after weeks, all bouncy and happy. He takes us to pick up his mysterious _friends_, wrecks the living room, and then _poof_. He leaves. Unbelievable. He could have at least had the decency to take us home instead of _making us walk four blocks!_" She yelled the last part toward the window, as though that meant the Doctor would hear her.

"Uh huh." Rory only nodded. He knew Amy would rant a while (i.e. all next month), but it didn't really worry him. The Doctor would come back. Though it isn't always when they'd like, he does. What he was more concerned about was explaining his disappearance today to his boss... _That is the fourth time I've up and left in the middle of a shift. _And couldn't exactly tell everyone that demons were invading his neighborhood and a dual-hearted alien had needed him to come and meet up with an anti-social detective and a monster-hunting pair of brothers. Just the thought made his head hurt. _What has my life become? _

The window behind him reverberated; a hollow _bang_ reached his ears. Rory jumped in surprise and tripped over the carpet. He fell into the windowsill, and the line of salt went flying. Rory looked up and found himself face to face with a little girl. She couldn't have been more than six, looking even younger with the ribbons in her hair. She smiled at him and her big blue eyes flicked black. _Oh no._ Rory gasped and scrambled to fix the line. Smoke exploded from the girl's mouth and into Rory. He fell backwards, but couldn't scream, though God, he tried. The girl outside collapsed, and didn't move.

"Rory?" Amy called. She heard a crash and peeked in the doorway. "Rory? You okay?" He was on the floor, disoriented. "Oi! Stupid. What did you do now?" She sighed, holding back a chuckle, and went to help him up.

"I- I don't know... I guess I tripped. Just a bit clumsy. Sorry, dear." Amy tilted her head.

"Dear?" That didn't sound like Rory. Sarcasm? Yes. Dry humor? Every day of the week. But pet names...

"Should I call you something else," He looked up and smiled. His eyes were black. "Honey?" Amy bolted, not caring to make small talk. Her once-husband chuckled, took a book from the shelf behind him, leafing through its pages. Amy saw none of this. She ran for the back, opening her mouth to call for the Doctor, when the copy of _Pandora's Box _slammed down on her skull. She didn't remember his arms wrapping around her as she fell.

* * *

"An ambulance is on the way," John told the inhabitants of the flat as he hung up the phone. Without waiting for any sort of reply, he knelt down next to his landlady. Mrs. Hudson hadn't moved since the demon left her and her skin was deathly pale. When John had first tried to find the source of the injury, Dean warned them it could kill her just by possessing her. Humans weren't meant to host demons, or something like that. He hadn't gotten much more out before Sam elbowed him. Sherlock was over on the couch, delved deep into his mind palace.

_God knows what he's thinking about..._ John was surprised he even _could_ think after everything that had happened, though he knew he should stop being surprised. Sherlock usually reacted to emergency by trying to throw a party. John could've laughed at the ridiculous image, but the sallow woman on the floor seemed to have cemented a grimace on his face. He barely registered the doctor approaching him. "How is she looking?"

"So far, so good. Her pulse and breathing are functioning soundly at a normal rate, and she seems stable."

"She's tough old girl," John commented. He looked over and caught Sherlock's eye. The detective raised an eyebrow and John nodded. The alien saw their brief exchange and misunderstood. He tried to smile.

"Sorry, we'll, uh, be out of your hair in a second. Dean just wanted to-"

"We're coming with you." The Doctor froze, then closed his mouth.

"I'm sorry."

"John and I are coming with you, after we leave Mrs. Hudson with Mycroft. It's clear these demons will go after everyone involved which now includes the two of us." Sherlock didn't add what he was really thinking. He was going to go after the bastard who possessed Mrs. Hudson.

* * *

"YOU IDIOT!" Crowley bellowed. The demon in the pathetic body in front of him cowered.

"B-but my lord... I don't understand..." He had done everything right, he had done just as his king had ordered.

"You grabbed another human you imbecile! You bloody twit!" He moved to strike the RoryDemon but the demon scurried away like a rat.

"Mercy! Lord, please... I have her husband, just as you asked!" Crowley froze.

"What. Did. You. Just. Say?"

"The husband, I have the husband!" He squealed, desperate. He knew the king's wrath, hell, he had implemented it a few times. And though it was fun to be the punisher, he didn't want to experience the other end of Crowley's wrath.

"YOU BLITHERING-" The demon cringed away from the next onslaught of screams and was certain torture wasn't far away. But Crowley had stopped. He was no longer glaring at him, as though he could drill through the demon's skull. He had actually paled, leaning back against his desk, eyes filled with unimaginable horror and the demon saw something he thought was impossible.

The king of Hell laughed.

It was no ordinary laugh, no mocking chuckle, but a laugh of absolute abandon. He had to lean on the desk for support, unable to stop the jubilant spasms from shaking him. Tears sprung to his eyes and yet he was laughing too hard to wipe them away. The demon at his feet didn't move a muscle, afraid to disturb even a particle of air. Any movement could mean his death, he was sure of it. Hell, he was practically a dead man kneeling. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for pain. Crowley noticed the slight movement as the demon below him cowered, but he was much too exuberant to be annoyed. "Up on your feet, idiot," he ordered, as he stepped over the cowering figure. He strode across the room with purpose, eyes locked on the red-haired damsel lying on a stone altar. Her image was almost ethereal among this darkness, red locks like fire. He had to admit, it was a nice change of pace from the lurking meat-heads and busty blondes his demons seemed to prefer.

"It turns out our guest is a tad more promiscuous than I originally thought." He trailed his fingers along her hair, noting how cold she was. That's unfortunate. He couldn't have her in less than perfect condition when her precious _Doctor_ came to save her. The thought of the name made him scowl. He had been told the two were a couple. They had _at least_ shared a snogging session before, he had pictures as proof. He assumed the stick-in-the-ass blonde was an awkward third wheel, not the other way around. Whatever dumbass had made this mistake was going to _wish_ he'd been given to his hell hounds as a chew toy-

The train of thought screeched to a halt. He suddenly realized he couldn't recall who had told him the Doctor and the girl were a couple. And that was something that didn't just _happen._ Though humans grew decrepit with age, his mind sharpened over the last few centuries. He didn't just _forget _things.

_Yes I have. _The realization hit him like a punch to the gut and he covertly tightened his grip on stone slab. The scotch. The broken glass. The memory of it falling was lost to him. "What the bugger is going on around here?" he murmured, turning back to his still-bowed lackey. He was surprised the fool hadn't yet pissed his pants.

Momentarily distracted, Crowley paid no mind to the form that stepped out from behind the pillar. But that was okay. The form cared not for his existence either. It was all too entranced by the pale woman lying prone on the sacrificial altar. The wrinkled fingers nearly mimicked Crowley's earlier movements, trailing along the auburn mane. Crowley and his lackey saw none of this, engaged in a discussion over the next plan of action. This too was okay. For even if they had seen the form, they were sure to forget.


End file.
